


Seeker

by ImperfectSilence



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU of When the Thunder Breaks, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Creature Harry Potter, Exploration of world, F/F, Fem!Harry, Forgive Me, Is this lighly based on some fanfic I read long ago for transformers?, Seekers and Seekers- it was right there, Veela are magical predatory sentient creatures, With rights and culture, kinda sorta yes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:07:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27219895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImperfectSilence/pseuds/ImperfectSilence
Summary: In the Second Task, Harri rescued Fleur from the grindylows. She then dove down and saved not only her hostage, one Ronald Weasley, but Fleur's little sister, Gabrielle. While Harri and Ron were still not on the best of terms, Fleur had no issue thanking Harri right there on the docks. But then she vanished. Harri tries to find her, but no one will tell her anything about where the French witch vanished to. No one except Luna, who just tilts her head and smiles, saying "It will all work out." But Harri doesn't quite trust Luna's judgment that far, and she continues her search.
Relationships: Fleur Delacour/Harry Potter
Comments: 1
Kudos: 26





	1. Abduction

Harri was worried to say the least, even though she tried not to let it show. She walked through the halls of the castle, aiming for an air of indifference or discovery, but inside she was in knots. Fleur was missing. Fleur, the Beauxbatons Triwizard champion, world renowned broom racer, newly acquired friend of the girl who lived, and the source of a lot of confusion and strange feelings.

It was just days since the second task, when Harri had pulled both Ron, the git, and Gabbi, Fleur’s little sister, out of the lake when Fleur failed the task. Since then, the platinum blonde hadn’t spoken to her. Fleur had been pacing the pier waiting for the time to run out when Harri surfaced, both hostages in tow. Once they climbed out of the water, Fleur had grabbed both Harri and her sister in a big hug and had kisses both their cheeks. But, then she turned away with her sister and left Harri standing alone in the cold on the pier, dripping water from the black lake, shivering.

Since then, nothing had been the same. Harri had shut down a number of people who thought Fleur was nothing more than a pretty face. She’d gone by the Beauxbatons carriage asking for Fleur, had even talked to Gabbi, who’s English was spotty at best. They communicated for too much in pantomime for it to be called conversation. Though if they ever played charades, Harri was totally snagging Gabbi. Harri had sought the house elves, who definitely knew something but weren’t telling. Though, they all seemed very excited.

Harri had wandered nearly every floor of the castle, had talked to what seemed like every portrait. She’d searched every nook and cranny, even wandered down to both the chamber of secrets and the series of rooms from first year to no avail.

She had skipped class, skipped meals, hadn’t given one thought to anything else. If it wasn’t for Luna, Harri wouldn’t be functioning. The Ravenclaw waif had joined Harri on her searching one day without Harri asking. She brought sandwiches and apples, pulled flasks of water and wrapped candies out of her pockets and passed them over. Harri was thankful to the girl, especially with how things had been before the ball.

* * *

The ball. The yule ball that Harri had put her foot in it. She was terrified of being forced to go, and Ron was trying to scare off every boy from asking her, assuming she was going with him. Indeed, she had to correct people that ‘no, she was not going with him already, he was lying, the asshole.’ The whole castle was in mixed perceptions, torn between Ron’s bold declarations and her quiet hisses between library stacks. Two weeks before, Draco had walked up and asked her. Draco! The smarmy git prattled about how they were destined to be wed, to unite the potter and black magics, and how she should take her rightful place by his side (read: under him). Harri took great pleasure informing him that the potter and black magics had already been unified, thankyouverymuch. She was the heir to both houses, so he could take his ferrety ways and leave.

In the end, Harri had realized she didn’t have a choice. No one had asked her to go. And she certainly hadn’t asked anyone. So she swallowed her pride and meekly walked down the stairs to an eagerly waiting Ron.

The ball, it did not go well. Ron couldn’t dance. He had skipped all of McGonagall’s classes. His robes were atrocious, and for once instead of people staring and whispering at her, they instead laughed. He had no manners, and spent the feast gorging himself as fast as he could. Harri was horrified. He then refused to dance again. So she spent the entire ball chained to Ron the git, holding back tears. This night, that was supposed to be so nice and special and fun was a nightmare. She finally convinced him to leave, to stop ogling Hermione and Krum, but on their way out he blew up at Hermione. Screaming and shouting and hexes nearly flying. It was mortifying. After the tirade, he grabbed her wrist and dragged her out of the hall.

When they got to the portrait to Gryffindor, he stood around for a moment before grunting, “Don’t I get a kiss?” That was the last straw for Harri, and she burst into tears before running up the stairs and burying herself in her bed. She pulled the curtains closed and when the other girls returned, tried not to listen to their remarks or how amazing their nights were.

Neville, she learned, had asked Luna to go. Luna, who Harri had befriended at the Quidditch world cup, and who was always a breath of fresh air. With Luna, you never knew what was going to happen.

* * *

They had once been in the forbidden forest feeding the threstals when she paused tossing raw chicken and looked over at Harri. Harri, who had bloody hands and didn’t feel like anything special, had asked a bewildered what, when Luna leaned in and pressed her lips to Harri’s.

After she drew back, Luna smiled. “That was nice. But I’m not the one for you, nor you me. There’s someone else waiting for you. Still, I wanted to know what it would be like to be yours and to have you. I was selfish like that, I’m sorry.”

“It- It’s alright.” Harri says, remembering that her hands are covered in raw chicken blood and so resists the urge to feel her lips. “I forgive you, Luna.”

Luna changed some after that, but in a subtle, indescribable way. She didn’t do or say anything different, didn’t stop talking about her paper or the creatures, or Marietta’s skincare routine, but there was something less manic about her. Like she’d calmed down a little. She wasn’t so pressed. Luna and she grew closer, after that, contradicting what Harri thought was supposed to happen, but Luna was after all, nothing if not contrarian.

Luna and Fleur had settled out after that too, which was a stark contrast to how they were before. Their sniping was subtle and done when they thought Harri wasn’t aware, but it was cutting. They went after each other like the heads of Fluffy. Harri honestly feared there’d either be an international incident, or they’d just find a body one of these days.

But then it calmed down. She found them sharing a table, discussing the pros and cons of standardizing defense curriculum’s internationally. Or just sipping their drinks without anything being on fire. Harri wasn’t sure what to make of their new friendship, but since her life had become so tossed and turned about, she was in no position to complain or argue. Plus, she liked them being friends. It made life much less stressful not to worry about who said what.

* * *

Harri’s thoughts had done as they often did and carried her to the quidditch pitch. It was currently being scraped, the goalpost’s dismantled, but she didn’t know why, and so didn’t really place any significance on it. She quietly walked down to her quidditch locker and grabbed her broom. Harri climbed on and flew out of the changing rooms and took to the air, reasoning that a fly would do her a lot of good.

It was. With every loop and dive and twist, Harri felt better and better. Weight she didn’t know she was carrying was being dumped off every time she rolled over. Her problems faded away as the wind howled in her ears as she rocketed from one end of the pitch to another. She dove and juked and ducked all of the irritations, the distractions, the annoyances. In the air, zooming about, everything else faded away. Everything became so much clearer. Harri finally let her manic rush end a she hovered above the center of the pitch, looking over the grounds. Still no sign of-

Harri screamed as someone grabbed her under her arms and tore her from her broom. Long hair dangled down, and she bit her screams off even as her heart pounded in terror.

“Fleur?” she gasped, as the veela witch carried her toward the castle.

“Oh, arri, you are a tease, no? Prancing around up zair, showing off for me?” She whispers down to the girl. “I ave been preparing for you, to show you just how appreciative I am.” Harri finds herself speechless at the French witch’s whisperings, watching as they approach one of the unused towers. Fleur tightens her hold and shifts Harri so that rather than dangling in front of her, she’s cradled in Fleur’s arms. The Veela hovers for a moment outside of a broken window before stepping forward and folding her wings in. They squeeze though the shattered pane and Harri has to blink to have her eyes adjust to the sudden dark.

As she starts to adjust, Harri lets out a breathy “Wow.”

The room, whatever it was originally, has been transformed completely. The furniture originally in here has been shoved to the side, and a large nest of pillows and blankets has taken center stage. There are bookcases along the walls, lined with books. A trunk sits open in the corner and Harri can see steps leading down.

“Fleur, where are we?” She asks, trying to squirm out of the older girl’s hold, but Fleur only tightens her grip.

“You are home.” She says firmly, easing the two of them into the luxurious nest of blankets and pillows.

“Fleur! You can’t just kidnap me!” Harri laughs, only for her chuckles to die off. “Oh, Merlin, you’re not joking.”

“Arri, I made this for you, for us. Is it not enough? I can get more. I can build it better. I donot know what I was thinking with the tomes on Egyptian runes, obviously low brow and classless. We shall have to replace zem, maybe with an Azteca codicil? And I’m sure the shelf dedicated to the Mongol spellcaster tactics can be moved-“

“Shhh.” Harri says, having slipped out of her arms and is now stroking down Fleur’s wing. “Fleur, slow down. Explain it to me please.” As she strokes, the Veela’s manic rush fades away.

“Arri. I- what do you know of Veela? Of me?” She asks. Harri stops stroking to think and Fleur hisses before dragging her hand back along the bones. “If you stop touching me it’ll start up again. If you want to know why then please-“

“Okay, Fleur. However I can help.” Harri says, shifting around to get a better angle on Fleur’s wings. “In truth, I don’t know much at all about Veela. People have told me that they’re creatures of lust, and that they ensnare men. You showed me they can throw fire and grow wings.”

“Zat is all true, from a certain point of view. A limited one. Veela are a subspecie of human. We are all female and have varying degrees of concentration. At ze lowest concentration, Veela are known only as enchanters. They can sway minds with desire, but cannot fly or cast fire. Stronger blood are sirens, who ensnare and can call flame. Contrary to myth, zey do not eat people! At the peak of ze blood are Veela. We can manifest wings, call fire, and feel attractions. We can encourage and rebuff zem equally.”

“Wow. That’s fascinating. Thank you, Fleur.” Harri says quietly, changing the wing she’s stroking.

“Oh, thank you Harri. I am not finished zho. True Veela are pure, and zat purity carries a toll. When a Veela finds her mate, someone she admires and is enthralled by, someone who speaks to her on every level and someone who responds in kind- she retreats from everyone else. She constructs a nest, a home for them. Lines it with treasures and valuables, makes it comfortable and safe. She does everything she can to provide for her chosen. Should her chosen reject her-“ Fleur shivers. “It does not end well for ‘er. Zey normally die, ‘eartbroken.”

“And this- me?” Harri squeaks. “Fleur, I’m flattered, but I’m not worth all of this. I’m just-“

“Just a girl who defeated a dark lord, who rebuffed him many times? One who slayed a thousand-year-old basilisk, who drove off the ‘ordes of azkaban alone? Who calls a werewolf friend, who survived ze scorn of her entire family and lost all of her friends doing what she knew was right? A girl who outflew a dragon, and who was noble enough to stay underwater to rescue a young girl she had never met, and whom no one expected her to save? Arri, you are someone very special to me. So, oui, I built all of this for you. You deserve to be cherished and loved, not spat on and run roughshod over. Arri, I love you. Stay with me, please.” Fleur had taken Harri’s hands at the start of her speech and had turned around to face the girl. “Arri, you are worth more zan all of the treasures in the world. I hope to help you realize that one day.”

“Fleur..” Harri says softly. The Veela’s look shatters, and she starts sobbing quietly.

“I am sorry, arri. I am zo, zo sorry. Please, just leave me. I-“ Whatever she was about to say next, was erased by Harri leaning in close and pressing her lips to Fleurs.

“I wasn’t telling you no, silly. But I can’t just say yes blindly. How will this affect things? The tournament, my future, my education, your education? I’m scared Fleur, because so much has already collapsed on me. More often than not, the floor has fallen through, and I’ve been burned. I can’t just blindly leap. I-“

“You don’t have to say it, not when you don’t feel it yet.” Fleur says, cutting her off. “I can feel the emotions. Do not make me go through that lie, to hear you say it and yet feel that you don’t mean it. You can’t imagine the urt.”

They lay on the nest for a while, quiet and content. Harri stroking along Fleur’s wings, tucking feathers back into place while Fleur basks in the shared warmth.

“So, about the tournament.” Harri says softly.

“hmm? Oh, zat.” Fleur says. “We are competitors out zere. But, here, in private, you are mine and I am yours, no?”

“Okay. And after this year?” Harri continues.

“You will come stay wiz me. I will graduate at the end of this year, and between my family and yours, we have no need to work. You will either return here for school in the fall or we can hire tutors, or you can transfer elsewhere. I’m sure your manservant, ze wolf, can manage things here in your absence.”

“Fleur!”

“What? Iz true.” She says back with a lazy smile.

“Even so.” Harri huffs. “What about the Dursleys and the wards there? Dumbledore and Voldemort?”

“They can all go to ‘ell.” Is Fleur’s flat reply. “You do not owe them a thing. The Dursley’s are despicable, and they should hope I never meet them. The headmaster is welcome to go up against our community in France, but he will not get far. Voldemort is unfortunately something that we will have to deal with in time. But not now. Now, is for us.” She says, rolling over and pinning Harri beneath her.

Fleur gently lays herself down so she’s straddling Harri, their faces just inches apart. Fleur’s gaze is full of fondness, of adoration. She loves Harri, completely. Fleur presses her lips to Harri’s and they kiss. It’s sweet and pure, a connection of minds and souls, but with only a hint of heat, of want.

“We can go as fast or as slow as you like, mon Cherie.” Fleur says, drawing back some. “Ow do you say, ‘this is your show.’” Harri surges up to meet Fleur’s lips again, wrapping her arms around the witch’s shoulders. Harri is the one to hesitantly lick Fleur’s lips, to ask to be let in. Fleur smiles in the kiss and acquiesces, letting Harri’s tongue slip in. It no fight, no duel for dominance. Rather, their kiss is one of guidance and exploration, to test and see what is good and what feels weird. They break to breathe and both blush in equal measure.

“Harri, you’re a quick study.” Fleur compliments.

“Well,” Harri says, “I did learn to summon and banish in one night.” She leans in to connect with Fleur again, but the witch draws back.

“You went in wiz the dragon having learned that charm only the night before?” she says, the blush fading away with concern.

“Um, yeah. I had no clue how to tackle the dragon until I thought about flying and-“

Harri yelps as something smacks her butt, her face burning red. “Fleur!”

“My dear, we will have to correct your penchant for dangerous stunts. How could you face a nesting dragon with a spell you only learned the night before?!” Fleur sounds furious, and Harri feels tears start to well up when she spanks her again. The French witch softens, and kisses at Harri’s tears. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, my dear. I just- you play so recklessly wiz your life. I worry. I only just got you, I couldn’t bear to lose you- Please forgive me.”

“Its- its okay. You were worried, and it was stupid. But, it was all I had! If I hadn’t learned it-“ Fleur buries her face in Harri’s shoulder.

“Don’t even talk about that. I cannot lose you. Already, I fight to let you leave here for the next task. It is… custom zat a veela’s mate does not leave the nest for six months or more. I am to care for your every need in zat time, to show you just how deeply you are loved.” She admits.

“Fleur, I have classes.” Harri says softly, wrapping her arms around the blonde.

“Non. You have me. I can teach you more than those professors can. I know you.” She protests.

“Fleur-“

“It is not negotiable. You are mine, and I am yours. Capice?”

“I don’t want to fight now, but I can’t just disappear. I have friends-“

“You have ze Luna girl. She will understand. Everyone else, they do not matter.” Fleur snuggles closer and wraps a wing around Harri, pulling her tight. “Sleep wiz me?”

“Fleur, I’m in my school robes. I’d love to, but-“ Harri’s protest turns to a squeak as Fleur tugs at her tie, slipping it off of the younger girl. “What are you doing?”

“Make you more comfortable.” Fleur says, as if that explains it all, while undoing the cuffs of Harri’s shirt. “Arms.”

Harri raises her arms, and Fleur tugs her buttoned shirt off the girl, leaving her in just her bra.

“You’re beautiful, darling.” Fleur compliments, spinning Harri to untie her shoes. Harri is struck mad as Fleur casually undresses her, slipping her shoes off and tossing them aside. Fleur runs a finger along the sole of Harri’s feet and she yelps.

“Ticklish too.” She smirks. Fleur reaches up and gently rolls Harri’s knee highs socks down and off her feet, leaving the witch in just her bra and skirt. Fleur reaches into her waist band and unclips the skirt, sliding it off of Harri as well. Fleur lays all of Harri’s clothes down out of the nest. Fleur stretches, and impressive sight with not only a fit and curvy body, but a brilliant pair of wings. Harri watches with undisguised awe and a dose of attraction at the display.

“You like what you see?” Fleur asks, waggling her wings.

“You’re beautiful.” Harri breathes, her cheeks turning red.

“So are you, m’dear.” Fleur says, pulling her close and planting a kiss on her cheek.

“No, I’m not.” Harri mumbles. “You’re amazing, and I’m just plain.” She can’t see Fleur’s frown, nor the sly look on her face.

“Oh yes. Just plain. It’s not like you have an amazing bum.” She cups Harri’s ass, rubbing small circles into the cheeks, “from playing quidditch. I’m sure you missed these arms too,” Fleur rubs along Harri’s biceps, playing with the latent power and muscle. “You have wonderful legs, too.” Fleur slides one-foot down Harri’s leg, hooking and twining their ankles.

“I’m small.” Harri complains, trying to push past the blush spreading from her cheeks.

“Oui, you are petite.” Fleur says, kissing the tip of her nose. “But if you were bigger, I would not be able to do this.” She wraps her arms around Harri and pulls her into Fleur’s lap. Harri’s head comes just below Fleur’s chin. Fleur rests her head on Harri’s and reaches up to cup Harri’s breasts. “Or perhaps you meant these.”

“Ah! Fleur.” Harri moans, as the older witch cups them and runs her thumbs around. “You have wonderful boobs, darling. They don’t hurt your back, and they don’t sag at all. I’m sure you barely have to wear a bra at all?”

“Y- yeah. They’re unob- unobtrusive.” Harri manages to say as Fleur’s hands slip under Harri’s bra.

“Plus, they fit just so.” Fleur whispers, wrapping her hands around them and jiggling them.

“Fleuuur.” Harri whines.

“Oh, Harri. I promised you, no? You are mine, and I am yours.” She whispers in Harri’s ear, before nibbling on the lobe. Her left hand slips out to unhook the bra and she pulls it off of Harri and tosses it aside. Fleur kisses down Harri’s neck, sucking on her pulse and leaving a small bruise. Her right hand busies itself with Harri’s breasts, fondling and rubbing. Fleur’s unoccupied left slips down and starts playing with the waistband of Harri’s panties.

“Fleur.” Harri moans, turning and kissing the French witch. “What are you doing?”

“I am zhowing you just ow much you are loved.” She says back firmly, using her legs to tug Harri’s open. Her hand slips into Harri’s panties and plays through the soft curls, gently pressing down and along her slit, spreading the damp. Fleur redoubles the kiss as she lets her right hand fall down into Harri’s panties too, lifting the girl up and sliding them down her leg. Fleur lets the kiss abate and Harri breathe, the two looking at each other, hazed with lust and love.

“Fleur- I’m, I’ve never. Um, this-“ she kisses the mumbling girl softly, gently. “I’ll be gentle, just relax and enjoy yourself, my sweet.” Fleur rubs Harri’s labia, fingers carding though her dampening curls and teasing at the glistening hole. She presses a series of kisses back down Harri’s neck, licks in the well of her collarbone. Harri, head thrown back, just mouths words. Not all of them school appropriate.

With a soft yelp, Harri sucks in a breath as Fleur pushes a fingertip in. She wriggles around and draws back out, content to take her time. Fleur shifts Harri around, laying her back I the nest. Her fingers continue to tease Harri’s pussy and draw out her clit, while Fleur slides south, letting her hair wash over Harri’s chest and abs.

“Darling? Are you aware you have a very firm set of abs? I believe the colloquialism is a six pack?” Fleur teases.

“Oh, Fleur. Yes, I’m- oh god yes, yes. I know. Quidditch does that- oh harder, deeper, please more- does that to you.”

Fleur hmms with a smile and pulls a hand up to trace the abs, to feel them flex and contort as her other hand pushes and presses into the girl.

“Just focus on the feelings dear.” She reminds as she feels the girl tense up. Harri lets out a breath and relaxes some, twitches still running along her body. Fleur leans in and licks up one breast, her hand playing with Harri’s cooch pulling out for a moment. She presses her middle finger to the lips of Harri’s cunt and pushes out with her ring and pointer, spreading the girl open just a little. Harri’s loud gaps and the muted roll of her hips speak well enough.

“You liked that.” Fleur says, pushing harder into the witch. The French Veela licks around one breast before moving to the other, where she bites gentle on the small but firm nipple standing at attention.

“Fuck! Fleur!” Harri yelps, arching up. Fleur pushes her back down and wraps her lips around the peak, sucking gently.

“Relax, mon cherie. You are in the best of ‘ands.” She says, popping her mouth off the nipple. Fleur’s lower hands bear fruit as her finger pushes past where she thought it should stop.

“You’re open already, darling.” She remarks.

“Quidditch practice second year. Ollie saw the blood and freaked. Alicia and Katie sat me down and explained what had happened to me. Also told me why girls aren’t supposed to- to play quidditch. Pureblood nonsense of, of, of purity.” She gasps, mock glaring at Fleur who started back up mid explanation. Fleur just planted a kiss on Harri’s lips and kept going.

“Fleur. I’m- I feel something.”

“tell me.”

“Like- like I have to pee. Pressure building. It’s hot too. Like a furnace in me, down, down there. Oh, sweet Jesus fuck do that again.” Fleur flicks the younger girl’s clitoris again like asked and shuffles around.

“You’re doing great darling. Just a bit more.”

“Fleur, it feels so good, but it hurts! It- oh- it hurts.”

“You’re almost there my love, just a bit more.” Fleur props herself up and looks Harri over. The girl is in rapture, wet spots on the blankets under her, but she’s comfy and warm. The apex of her legs is glistening with wet, her lips puffy and swollen with want. Fleur leans in close and teases them open, to see the folds inside. She’s pink and wet her clit is visibly hard. Fleur has never been more sure of her choice. She leans in and kisses the bundle of nerves, slipping a finger inside of Harri.

“unnh. More.” She girl groans. Obligingly, Fleur slides another into the girl vagina and thrusts, slipping at the folds that clench and pull. She nips at the girl’s button, sucks on the exposed bundle of nerves.

“Fuuuuuck. More. I’m almost- just a little- bit-“

Fleur pinches the girl’s clit and slides her tongue up Harri’s spread lips. The girl arches set off by the new feeling of wet and hot and writhing- her legs locking and her hips shaking as she screams in delight. Fleur laps at the clenching muscle, lets them pull at her fingers and tongue. She sucks and licks and does whatever she can think of to prolong the younger girl’s ecstasy. Harri’s shriek hits a new high and suddenly she’s clenching harder, something spraying out of her. Fleur covers the source with her mouth and drinks in the liquid, hot and acrid and salty and not cum.

When Harri’s finishes peeing and cumming, she falls to the blankets, energy spent. Fleur presses a few last kisses to the girl’s thighs and crawls up, lavishing attention as she goes.

“How… how was it?” Harri asks tiredly.

“It was perfect.” Fleur answers, wiping her face before kissing the girl. Harri’s nose scrunches up.

“Something taste’s weird.”

“That would be you, my love.”

“No, it’s not just me. Something is off.”

“well, my darling, you’re a bit of a squirter.”

“A what?”

“You can force your juices out of you when you cum. Or, you can learn to.”

“I can learn to?” The tired witch asks.

“You took the first step.” Fleur says lovingly.

“What did I do?” Harri asks.

“I’ll tell you in the morning. Rest, my love.”

“I PEED ON YOU AND YOU DRANK IT?!?!”


	2. Powder and Ponder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Hogwarts express just left, taking many of the students with them. Just about everyone, in fact. Winter break is being cut short for the Yule Ball, but there's still eleven days of no classes. And the holidays, or course. Harri is one of the few to stay behind for obvious reasons. But, as she explored the deserted castle, for once without her friends, it sinks in how lonely she is all of the sudden. Yet, as it starts snowing harder, this is Yule. It's a magical time of year, who knows what could happen? Who she could bump into in the blowing drifts?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place before the first one. It's the introduction of Fleur and Harri as peaceable and friendly witches rather than competitors. An explanation and build so it isn't quite the one sided obsession-whirlwind-romance that dominated literature my teenage years.

Something about Hogwarts made everything more magical. Be it the castle itself, old and unvanquished, or the pristine views, the lake and forest stretching out as far as the eye can see. Perhaps it was the sky overhead, wards and remoteness making the light pollution nonexistent. Stars and galaxies in clear view, so long as the weather is clear.

Whatever it was, it made everything feel that much more. Letting her hand fall from waving her friends goodbye on the express, Harri leans on the rail and takes a moment to breathe. It’s been a busy term, full of danger and pain. The first task of the triwizard tournament is not even two weeks old, and the next task is a mere two months away. The golden egg is sitting on a chair in her dorms still, and Harri has no intention of working on it until Hermione is back from holiday.

She’s alone this time, for the first holiday ever. No Dursleys, no Ron and Hermione, no one here at all. They’d be back for the Yule ball at the end of break, squeezed in before classes resumed. Sure, there were a few other students staying, but no one she knew closely. A handful of Ravenclaws, a pair of Slytherins, some of the exchange students. She was the only one who had come to wave their friends goodbye, and so the path back to the castle was empty.

Harri trudged slowly up the stone path, wrapped in a scarf and coat, plus some heavy thoughts. She was missing her friends, even if they’d only been gone a few minutes. But she was grateful for the peace too. It had been so long since she was left alone, could sit and think without anyone intruding. Normally it wasn’t so bad, but being the youngest and fourth champion to the tournament she was hounded constantly.

Reporters looking for a scoop, younger years either worshipping or vilifying her, older students expressing their condolences or anger. She had proved her worth as champion a few times in empty halls, hexing some of the more forceful students who thought she didn’t belong- or that she belonged to them.

* * *

Somewhere the path had gone inside, and she found herself walking the empty halls. It was weird to be here, taking the shortcut from charms to transfiguration and it not be crowded. No shouts, spells flying above, students crowding and chatting, snuck food and abandoned homework. Filch had to have come though already, since the floors were for once clean, the trash swept away and the mud scraped away. Even the portraits were quiet, subdued and away visiting friends in warmer parts of the castle.

If she didn’t know that ghosts were real, she’d say that the corridor felt full of ghosts to her. Missing the life, the reality of what it should be. Like she died and was now haunting a vacant dimension of Hogwarts.

Harri climbed up the stairs to the Gryffindor tower and pushed into the common room. Since it was just her for the next two weeks, McGonagall had let the Fat lady off her post and keyed Harri into the protections. The door opened for her as she got close, no password required.

The common room was of course empty. The couches, chairs, tables all clear. No forgotten clothes or notes, no textbooks or homework in progress. It was clean and straightened, and lonely. She hurried up the stairs to her dorm. In her dorm she unwound the scarf from her neck, shrugged out of her jumper, laid them on Hermione’s bed. Looking around, it was no better up here. Two rows of empty beds, only one made up. No trunks, no clothes, no magazines or anything tossed about.

She had wanted the solitude, the peace, but Harri hadn’t thought about having to wake up every day and feel like they abandoned her. A flutter came from outside the window and Harri pushed it open to let her owl in.

“Hedwig!” she said, happy for a friend.

“Prek.” Hedwig barked, hopping over to Harri and settling on the girl’s bedrail. The bar was scratched and worn from where she’d perched many, many times before.

“How are you doing girl?” Harri asked, stroking her pet and friend. Hedwig shivered into her fingers, fluffing and easing. “Mhmm. I see.” Harri says, carefully stroking the owls’ neck.

Hedwig stays and enjoys the affection for a while, but eventually spreads her wings and adjusts to take back off into the grey skies. Harri lets her step to her arm and takes her to the window, pushing the panes back open and tossing Hedwig out. Hedwig catches the wind and soars away, doing a loop for her mistress before heading for the forest.

Harri leans out the windows and watches her fly away, wishing she had wings. She blinks to see snow on her arm, melting from the heat, but definitely snow. Full of renewed energy, she grabs her coat and scarf from Hermione’s bed and runs down the stairs.

* * *

She dashes through the halls, certain that there is no one there to admonish her or run into. Indeed, she goes the whole length of the castle without seeing anyone. It’s so different to the previous years, she thinks, remembering the hustle of second year and hiding from the basilisk, not that they knew that’s what it was then. Or the fear and terror of last year and the threat of Sirius hanging over them all, though he turned out to be on her side and the danger coming from the pocket of her friend. Even first year had been marred by worry; Harri fresh from seeing the slain unicorns. This was the first that she wasn’t being chased by some sort of terror. The first ‘normal’ holiday since she started Hogwarts. The less said about the Dursleys, the better.

It was cold, and Harri was tempted to shiver, but it wasn’t _that_ cold really. Sure, it was snowing, but the cold was the type that didn’t leech into your bones. It was the type that bussed your cheeks and chilled your fingers. But so long as you had gloves and a coat, it was fine. What had probably been light flakes in the tower had progressed to heavy flakes, big and windy. Snow blew around her and Harri pushed the door open and stepped outside. The courtyard was already covered in a layer of fluff, maybe a cm or two deep. She was very thankful for the boots Charlie gave her last Christmas, as running around in her trainers in this would lead to frostbitten toes. But, she was warm, feet included, and so she raced through the blowing drifts. It was exhilarating, getting lost in the sheets of white powder, falling from the sky and sliding off the roof. She couldn’t help but smile, her dour mood solidly broken.

Harri couldn’t explain it, but she loved precipitation. Rain, sleet, hail, snow- she adored it. The thicker the better. This storm felt like a gift to her, a blessing for surviving so far.

Taking a running start, Harri kicked her heels and skidding through the courtyard on the powder. Letting a laugh break her lips she pushed off a column and spun, closing her eyes and just feeling the falling flakes.

It was like the whole world dropping away, the sound muffled by the snow, the spinning breaking her direction, just the cold air and the snow and her. After spinning so much she loses her balance and falls over, laughing at herself as she climbs to her feet, head still spinning. She finds one of the benches and sits down to catch her breath. She has been a bit frenetic all of the sudden. It’s peaceful, and she’s happy to watch the snow build up as she catches her breath.

It’s coming down hard- her steps are almost filled in, and as a gust blows through, they vanish. She rests for another moment before pushing on toward the spot.

Harri shoots off, legs pumping underneath her, shoes sliding on the slick ice blown under the roof. Breath catching on the cold air, lungs half seized, caught in a wild sprint for the place she had in mind, she kicks up sprays of powder as she tears down the covered walkway. Halfway there she reaches back and pulls her beanie off along with the hair tie, letting her red hair fly free, laughing and smiling.

She skids to a halt, her cheers diving off as she notes that she’s not alone. The first person she’s seen since the Hogwarts Express left. They’re in a lavender coat, with a blue beanie on top. Facing out into the chasm below, they turn to look at the commotion.

“Arri!” Fleur greets, blonde hair spilling out from under her hat. “there’s room for two.” Harri walks the last few paces to the spot, leaning on the rail next to the French girl. They look out at the vale together. Below is obscured by the storm, swirling snow blocking all view of the lake or the grounds down there, but Harri suspects neither of them came to see the water or the land. She looks up, and in the light of the lanterns above them, she can see the flakes drift down gently, hundreds if not thousands at a time.

“I love winter.” Fleur says softly, breaking the silence. “It’s so peaceful and quiet, so still and beautiful. Veela are supposed to be summer creatures, you’d think, but there’s just something about the cold that I love. I guess I’m a freak.” She jokes.

“No.” Harri says quietly, shaking her head and looking at the other witch. “You’re not a freak, Fleur. Liking the cold and winter doesn’t mean you’re not a proper Veela, or that you don’t belong. Everyone has their preferences, has their quirks. Everybody hates the rain, but I kind of like it. It’s so nice, the water pouring down and washing everything away. Like it’s starting over, like everything is going away and there’s a new start. Or snow, covering up everything. White powder as far as the eye can see, swirling down and around, burying all your problems and worries. It’s pure, beautiful.” Harri says, wondering just where the words are coming from.

“Deep thoughts. Guess I might have underestimated you at the start.” Fleur says with a grin, knocking the witch with her hip gently.

“Gods, the feast.” Harri says, looking down at the snow swirling beneath them. “That was so terrible, you know? Here I am, ready for a quiet year, and then Dumbledore calls my name. I should have known. The Potter curse.”

“You really didn’t put your name in?” Flue asks, like it’s no big deal, but Harri can hear the weight of her question, the attention she’s paying.

“No, Fleur. I did not put my name in the goblet of fire.” Harri says, looking the veela in the eyes.

“Merde.” Fluer says after a moment, looking away. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry then. You shouldn’t have had to face this.”

“It’s okay.” Harri says, “I forgive you. What did I expect when Dumbledore announced it? Of course I would end up competing.”

“What makes you say that?” Fleur asks, looking over,” Surely nothing else could have happened on this scale before.”

“Voldemort in my first year, possessing one of the professors. Basilisk in my second year, then Sirius Black in my third.” Harri says.

“Do any of us lowly mortals stand a chance?” Fleur jokes.

“With the way things normally go, not really. But the moment I can get out of this thing I’m dropping like a rock, so.”

“So my best chance to win is convincing Madame Maxime to try and overturn the contract.” Fleur says.

“Would she?”

“Not a chance.” Fleur replies. “I’m stuck in second place to you.”

“To be fair, I think you’re in last right now.” Harri smirks.

“Only because that idiot Karkaroff can’t recognize talent when he sees it. And that Bagman was too busy staring at my bits to see me perform.”

“He gave you an eight, though.”

“Exactly- it’s an insult. My girls are a solid ten.” Fleur says lifting her boobs for emphasis. They both laugh.

The mists under the bridge swirled and snow blew over the top, sending a wave of white glistening in the low light. The two shapes, indistinct through the flurry of crystals, leaning on one another and enjoyed the storm. Competition forgotten, differences overlooked, brought together by the simplest of things: a snowstorm.

The castle looked like a wonderland, drifts of snow blowing off the roofs and piling along the paths. The gates, iron and imposing, softened as more snow fetched up against them, easing the points and stone. Down the path and around the corner of the castle, Hagrid’s hut is painted white, a mushroomed drift of white powder, with a curl of black smoke rising from the top. The forbidden forest is no different, the long scraggly branches hanging icicles and thin lines of powder settled on. The whomping willow long gave up its fight against the weather and has surrendered to having snow coat it’s branches. Every so often, just to show who’s boss, it gives a shudder and throws off a pile of fluff.

“So, Harri, what are you doing here at Hogwarts?” Fleur asks, “I don’t mean to pry, but won’t your family miss you?”

Harri takes a breath and thinks about how to respond. She doesn’t like to talk about the Durselys, doesn’t like to mention ‘home’.

“I-“ She pauses for a moment before bravely forging on, “After that night, Dumbledore had me placed with my Mom’s sister. Aunt Petunia, she never forgave mum for having magic when she didn’t. And she married another muggle. My cousin, they, he never wants for anything. Hasn’t for all his life. And I don’t want to hold it against him, but- It’s better if I stay away. Better for everyone if I’m there as little as possible.”

Fleur doesn’t have an immediate response, too caught up in the implications and what was not said. Her father is the ambassador from France, and he couldn’t help but tech her some of the sills required to be successful in international politics. So much of what is stated in politics lies more on what is not spoken than what is. When she sees Harri flick her gaze back away from her for what couldn’t be the first time, Fleur realizes she has to say something.

“Then I’m glad.”

“What?” Harri says, taken aback.

“Not that your home life is so dreary, but that you’re here.” Fleur adds quickly, “There was a threat on Papa’s life last week. It’s safer for both Gabbi and I to stay here at Hogwarts than to go to the ambassadors residence or even try to return to France. We’re stuck here for the break. I’m glad that I won’t’ be spending it alone.”

“That’s a bit bold of you.” Harri teases, a warm flush on her cheeks.

“Ah, but I am an ‘international terror’ according to your Prophet.” Fleur says with a smile.

“Hmph!” Harri snorts, “Not my Prophet.”

“Harri, dear, you own a sizable share of their stock. That won’t fly with me.” Fleur replies.

“What?” Harri asks, the cheer falling from her voice, “Are- are you serious? How much of a share do I have?”

“Harri, please, one question at a time. Oui, I’m serious. At least when your grandfather and mine worked together the Potters did. It was mentioned in his journals, how your Grandfather would shape the news to help their interests. I don’t know how much of the stock he owned, nor how much you have now. It’s possible your parents could have sold it all.”

“I had no idea.” Harri says weakly, “Do you know anything else about my grandfather? What- what was his name?”

“This is a talk best had over some hot cocoa, let’s head indoors.” Fleur says, leading the way through the still swirling snow.

“But Harri, his name was Charlus, Charlus Potter.”


End file.
